


The Sign of Goodwill

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10078394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: Two members of a dying species find themselves on opposite sides of a conflict.  They manage to have one moment of goodwill during a pause in the fight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/157985185785/title-the-sign-of-goodwill-fandom-original

“Doctor, did you…Did you know that Speranza was pregnant when she died?”

“What?  How could you possibly know that?”

* * *

The faint starlight shone against the glossy shell of her ship, huddled under the vegetation like a great beetle.  She held the transmitter in her hand, waiting to see if she would get another response, a sudden cancellation, from him.

The enemy, at the moment. But Shrikes had ways to work around things like that.  They had to, or they would never survive.

There was a faint rustling, soft footsteps on earth, and she could just make out his face in the darkness.

“I’m a little surprised that you actually came,” she said.

R stepped out so that he was facing her straight on, shoulder to shoulder, not aggressive, but not fearful either.  “If I had the intention of skipping, Speranza, I would have simply refused your summons.”

She shifted, moving away from her ship, her floral skirt fluttering around her legs.  “Do you know why I asked you here?”

“I have an idea,” he said.

She nodded.  “Then let me talk for a moment.”

They were both silent for a moment before she began.

“I don’t know why another Shrike is here, but you should know that you’re the first Shrike I’ve seen in years.  And I’ve gone out of my way to run into them.  There are so few of us left.”

“And you think we need to avoid fighting,” said R.

She nodded.

“I’m sorry,” said R. “I really wish that were feasible. But you and I are deadlocked on opposite sides.  I don’t…” He hesitated.  “I don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing, but no matter the reason, I can’t abide by it.  You’re trying to kill my family.  You’ve already killed some of them.”

“I figured as much,” she said softly, not without disappointment.  “That was a long-shot anyway.  I don’t expect you to understand.  But know that, if it is at all possible, I will try to spare you during what comes next.”

“Hence the….”  R splayed his hand out and put it on his chest, a duplication of the gesture she had shown him earlier.

“Yes, hence the Sign of Good Will that I gave you during the battle.”

His eyes glistened sadly in the darkness.  “I wish I could reciprocate that sentiment, my sister.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“I’m not your sister.”

He inclined his head. “I apologize.  But I do not think I can, in good conscience, return your promise. I…”

“Your family.”

“My family.  They are not as understanding as I am.  They won’t…”

She nodded.  “I understand.  I won’t ask anything more of you than what you’ve already done. Except one thing.  I want to ask you for something.”

She stepped forwards. “R, there are so few Shrikes left. I want...There is something I want...”

R could see where this was going, but remained stone-faced.

“This could be my last chance, and you’re the only one who might be able to do it.”

“Speranza, what are you saying?”

“R, I want an egg.  I feel the absence of my family like a hole in my chest.  The Shrikes are gone.  We are all alone.”

“And you want…  Right here?  Now?”

“Yes.”

They stared into each other’s faces for a while.

“You realize I don’t feel that way about you, Speranza,” said R.

“I had thought so,” said Speranza.  “And that is why I am asking you this as a favor.”

R’s face was expressionless. “Sometimes I wonder if we should be so quick to fight our extinction.”

“Speak for yourself,” she snarled with sudden ferocity, and R pictured her with massive teeth, with claws and wings and barbed appendages, the intense anger and danger and viciousness of a Shrike hidden under her human exterior.

He hadn’t seen another Shrike, let alone a female one, in a very, very long time.  He had almost forgotten what he was supposed to find attractive at this point.

He looked at her with pity, with a sad resignation, with the understanding that they were alone, reading the desperation in her solitude, seeing a strong person faced with impossible circumstances, reacting with such a simple desire and having no one to fulfill it.

“Speranza,” he said. “You know that a child under these circumstances would have no chance of survival.”

“There is a chance.”

“Even if we can conceive it, it will probably die as soon as you change back.  A human body cannot sustain a growing Shrike.”

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“There is no guarantee you will even survive that long.”

“There is a chance.”

They locked eyes again, mutual anger and pity and feelings of connectedness in a way no other two beings in the universe could.

He sighed.  “There is a chance.”

“R, will you promise that if somehow it survives but I don’t—”

“That I can promise, Speranza.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

He smiled, and she shrank back.

“I see you still have yet to master human body language,” he said, returning to his blank look. “Smiling is a sign of good will among humans.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“They have no teeth, Speranza, it cannot be a threatening gesture.”

She eyed him up and down before twisting her arm into the Shrike sign of good will.

He duplicated the motion.

“There’s just one more thing,” she said, as the pressure keeping the door of her ship shut hissed out. “I don’t want anyone to see us.”

“We’ll be discreet.”

“And I’ve heard something that can increase the chances of conception.”

He knew where this was going, but did not let it show on his face.

* * *

Speranza was not unattractive, in either of her forms, and R would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, even without the satiation of the long-term pair-bonding need he harbored.

Her long black hair frayed out into a whipping comet’s tail in zero gravity as they approached each other. The layers came off, first shoes, then shirts, then pants and skirts, and finally underwear, the clothing drifting off softly like misshapen amoebas.  They came together, hands over each other with implicit trust, her hair drifting everywhere between them, their long human limbs twisting around each other.

Then the final layer came off, and there were massive tails entwining, leathery wings wrapping around each other in a fleshy cocoon, spiny antennae being stroked, and long, black tongues tasting each other from out of those enormous, saw-toothed mouths.

The lights in the ship were off, so the only source of illumination was the soft light from the earth from the port side.  They were alone here, in the dark, above the planet, they were alone in the entire solar system in fact, and by the time they had finished there was only one small piece of evidence they had ever been together at all.  They would soon meet once again, but the encounter would not be nearly as gentle.

* * *

“We…We just have ways of telling these things about each other, doctor.”


End file.
